Give me your Worst.

This. This is the first ever THING I've written. And the funny thing is I don't even have a title. I'm still working on that. And like I said, give me your Worst. I need It. ._.

(The First Bit)

The air was crisp...but not the way she liked it. She preferred the kind that could persuade the air to come to life, to waltz among the flowers while soaking in the sunlight; the kind that tickles you awake when taken in, before giving the most curiously delightful sense of wholeness that puts a smile of your face and a spring in your step.

There was a distinct- a near suffocating hostile- chilliness here, though. She shivered slightly, unaccustomed to the creepy silence that stalked this timeless zone. It was very queer, as if she were being watched from all sides. She wriggled her toes out of habit, only to meet with a flawless marble floor, cold and hard. How she missed the warm fuzzy carpets from back home.

Not that I don't like our house, oh no, it's absolutely lovely!

And lovely it was, for the house was furnished with wooden artifacts laden with beautiful intricate carvings, and then peppered with ornaments of mirror, crystal and glass- a pretty combination, you see. The windows were huge; the door knobs were brass; and all of the toilets of nice frosted glass.

Mummy and Daddy even bought a dear little rocking chair for me to sit in!

Oh, but how strange! She didn't feel like she was at home at all! Nothing seemed quite right. And at the same time she loathed herself for harboring such selfish thoughts. She wanted so much to be her parents' perfect little girl, to be content- not spoilt at all, so they would love her more and spend more time with her.

I wish Mummy were her...I miss the smell of spring that always follows her about like my shadow does to me...Nanny smells very much like the cod liver oil she's always getting me to take...ugh, and she's as fun as that sounds...she can't help me make rainbows dance in my room like Daddy can with his prisms...

She still couldn't help but wonder why there weren't any family photos properly framed and decorated about the house that she would loved stare at for hours at a time; when was the last time they merrily went out as a tight-knit happy family of three; and how it would be till “some day” or “another time” and perhaps “soon”.

Darn. There I go again. Pull yourself together, silly! Your family's just fine, and you got everything you could ever want! You shouldn't be so horribly fussy...you can't...y-you mustn't...or...or else Father Christmas won't come this year! Th-that's right...h-he doesn't visit b-bad kids, remember...and then you won't g-get your wish....


Once again, GIVE ME YOUR WORST. ._.